The Illustrious Prince eBook

Smoothly the huge engine came gliding into the station—­a
dumb, silent creature now, drawing slowly to a standstill
as though exhausted after its great effort. Through
the windows of the saloon the station-master could
see the train attendant bending over this mysterious
passenger, who did not seem, as yet, to have made
any preparations for leaving his place. Mr. Hamilton
Fynes was seated at a table covered with papers, but
he was leaning back as though he had been or was still
asleep. The station-master stepped forward, and
as he did so the attendant came hurrying out to the
platform, and, pushing back the porters, called to
him by name.

“Mr. Rice,” he said, “If you please,
sir, will you come this way?”

The station-master acceded at once to the man’s
request and entered the saloon. The attendant
clutched at his arm nervously. He was a pale,
anaemic-looking little person at any time, but his
face just now was positively ghastly.

“What on earth is the matter with you?”
the station-master asked brusquely.

“There’s something wrong with my passenger,
sir,” the man declared in a shaking voice.
“I can’t make him answer me. He won’t
look up, and I don’t—­I don’t
think he’s asleep. An hour ago I took him
some whiskey. He told me not to disturb him again—­he
had some papers to go through.”

The station-master leaned over the table. The
eyes of the man who sat there were perfectly wide-open,
but there was something unnatural in their fixed stare,—­something
unnatural, too, in the drawn grayness of his face.

“This is Euston, sir,” the station-master
began,—­“the terminus—­”

Then he broke off in the middle of his sentence.
A cold shiver was creeping through his veins.
He, too, began to stare; he felt the color leaving
his own cheeks. With an effort he turned to the
attendant.

“Pull down the blinds,” he ordered, in
a voice which he should never have recognized as his
own. “Quick! Now turn out those porters,
and tell the inspector to stop anyone from coming into
the car.”

The attendant, who was shaking like a leaf, obeyed.
The station-master turned away and drew a long breath.
He himself was conscious of a sense of nausea, a giddiness
which was almost overmastering. This was a terrible
thing to face without a second’s warning.
He had not the slightest doubt but that the man who
was seated at the table was dead!

At such an hour there were only a few people upon
the platform, and two stalwart station policemen easily
kept back the loiterers whose curiosity had been excited
by the arrival of the special. A third took up
his position with his back to the entrance of the
saloon, and allowed no one to enter it till the return
of the station-master, who had gone for a doctor.
The little crowd was completely mystified. No
one had the slightest idea of what had happened.
The attendant was besieged by questions, but he was
sitting on the step of the car, in the shadow of a
policeman, with his head buried in his hands, and
he did not once look up. Some of the more adventurous
tried to peer through the windows at the lower end
of the saloon. Others rushed off to interview
the guard. In a very few minutes, however, the
station-master reappeared upon the scene, accompanied
by the doctor. The little crowd stood on one
side and the two men stepped into the car.